


Brother Mine

by thehollowones



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mycroft-centric, One Shot, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 02:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6355861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehollowones/pseuds/thehollowones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wants to freeze this moment, give it to John, and say We do not need you. He wants to beg John on his knees for help.</p>
<p>Sherlock always has somewhere to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brother Mine

In the kitchen, Mycroft tosses an apple from palm to palm. A paring knife lies on the counter in front of him. He knows his house, knows his kitchen, knows that there are fourteen other knives in various drawers. Knows that he could take any one of them, fold his hand around the blade and squeeze until blood drips to the floor, until he feels something other than encroaching dread.

 

The apple. The apple is important.

 

In the next room, Sherlock lies on a couch with one arm splayed awkwardly, knuckles dragging on the floor. He is still wearing his coat. His sleeve has ridden up, exposing a mottled expanse of forearm.

 

From the kitchen, Mycroft will be able to hear his brother leave. From the kitchen, Mycroft will be unable to stop him. And there is still the apple.

 

He steps into the next room. He sits, he shuffles through papers. He holds his phone between ear and shoulder and threatens a Croatian minister while monitoring the spaces between Sherlock's breaths.

 

"Mycroft," Sherlock says, and Mycroft hangs up the phone. He holds the apple in a hand that does not shake, that has forgotten how to shake. He crouches down in his brother's sightline.

 

For a wild moment, he considers laying his hand in Sherlock's curls like he did when they were children.

 

"Tell me," he says. He holds out the apple and Sherlock takes it from him, brushing against his hand with freezing fingertips. He wants to freeze this moment, give it to John, and say _We do not need you_. He wants to beg John on his knees for help. _There is something in his head that will not let him be._

 

"Tell me," he says, thinking of the knife. Outside it is raining a slow, steady drizzle.

 

Sherlock tells him.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the rights to these characters.


End file.
